Too Close for Comfort
by midnight-tessa
Summary: Sara tries her hand at dating, unfortunately, things do not go as well as planned. Can Grissom and the rest of the team find her before it's too late?
1. Chapter One

This is my first fic, so be gentle. Please. I'm always open to comments and constructive criticism.  
  
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He held her tightly. A little too tightly for comfort, but overall, she didn't mind. She rather liked the feeling of a man's tight embrace and was fully prepared to make this exception. Not exception, that is the wrong word. More so a compromise. Isn't that what a relationship is about? Compromising to make way for each other's needs, feelings and desires. A little mental anguish now, to secure better things for the future. Yes, compromise.  
  
She feared that if she told him to back off just a bit, he would become offended and leave. It had been so long since she'd felt this way with anyone. She wasn't about to jeopardize it, not for few moments of discomfort. Mind you, she'd been out of the dating game for quite some time, and wasn't really sure what to expect.  
  
'Shouldn't I be able to tell him the truth about how I feel? How I need more space? I mean, just for now, until I get used to it? I'm sure if we moved just a little slower, I'd become fine with this degree of closeness. Not fine, more than fine. I'd learn to love it. Or just wake up one day loving it. I'm not too sure how it works.'  
  
'But what if he doesn't want to take it any slower. What if he thinks this is already too slow? Is this too slow? Should I be instigating more?'  
  
She chided herself mentally, forcing those thoughts out of her mind. She shouldn't be letting herself feel this way. She was a grown woman after all. She inside knew that honesty should be the best policy. Isn't that the advise of the cliché? Honesty is the best policy. One shouldn't have to live a lie, just to live at all. Should they? She knew she owed it to herself to be truthful. To come right out and speak her mind.  
  
"Joey?" She said, looking to the man sitting directly behind her. He had his arms wrapped tightly around her midsection.  
  
"Yes," was all he said.  
  
"I think this, with us," she paused. "I need some space." She saw a look of hurt mixed with confusion cross his strikingly sharp features. She didn't want him to take what she was saying the wrong way, so she continued, "No, don't get me wrong. I like this. I like us, but I'm just not ready for *this*." She motioned towards his arms, and started peeling back his digits. "This, here, is too close for me. I just don't feel good this close. Given time, I'm sure," she began but was cut off.  
  
"Time. Time! I've given you nothing but time. I understand that you've had a colourful past when in comes to other men, but they aren't me. You have to get over your past, and get on with your future. I'm sorry about what happened to you, but I'm not about to let it happen again. I love you, Sara." He tightened his grip on her.  
  
"No, Joey, *you* have to understand," she began, trying to push her fears farther inside. She hated feeling this way, but she just didn't know how else to deal with it. Being this close made her feel afraid. Afraid to let anyone in, afraid to repeat her past mistakes, afraid to make new ones. She pulled harder at his arms, and tried to stand up, but he just held her smiling.  
  
She was a whole roller coaster of emotions. The happiness that she once had felt was quickly being replaced by fear, and then anger. "Let me go," she ordered.  
  
"No," he said with a grin.  
  
"Let me go now!" She said a little louder than expected. She wanted to be alone and she wanted it fast.  
  
"You need time? I've got time, but we're going to spend it, here, together becoming comfortable with one another. You *will* feel comfortable with me and you'll thank me for this later. Maybe not tomorrow, but you *will* thank me."  
  
She started to panic. Her anger now replaced by her former fear. She wondered just why she even spoke up. She shouldn't have. He would have gone home soon enough, she'd have all night to focus on her work and deal with her insecurities. Her work. She noted the time, and realized she was supposed to be starting work in less than an hour. That was the excuse she was looking for. She always left early and arrived well before the others.  
  
"We will spend time together. Tomorrow. I promise. Tonight I have to go to work. I should already be gone. Really, tomorrow, I'm your girl. We'll have breakfast, after I'm done my shift. We'll talk and come back to my place. We'll work it out tomorrow." She shimmied herself out of his embrace, pushing herself to her feet.  
  
"We are working this out tonight, Sara," he told her, forcing her back down to his level. With a firm grip on her forearms, he continued with, "I see what you are doing. Trying to avoid the real issue here. You *need* me to sort this out for you. You can't go on living like this. You have to let someone in. Can't you see how much I love you? I'm doing this for you."  
  
"And I'm happy that you care enough to help me get past this, but really I have to go to work. They are expecting me," she told him, as his grip continued to intensify. Finally, she said, "You're hurting me."  
  
His only response was a small chuckle, and, "No pain, no gain. Isn't that what everyone's saying these days?"  
  
"I *said*, you're hurting me!" She struggled briefly, realizing just how far to nowhere she was really getting, and decided she'd had enough. She pulled her head forward for momentum, and then slammed it backward, as hard as she could into that of her captor.  
  
He really didn't find that amusing, especially the part where blood began to drip from his nose. So, he pushed her away from him, sending her skidding across the floor. She scrambled to her feet, but not quick enough as he was already up himself, and in mid-swing towards her face. The two connected with enough force to send her back to the floor. This time she didn't get back up. "All I wanted was to love you. For you to love me back. You'll see, after tonight, you'll understand. This, between us, will be great."  
  
She lay dazed on her side, not able to keep a clear thought in her mind. The only thing she knew for certain was that she needed help, she needed her gun. Where did she leave it? She rolled onto her back to get a better view of the room, and winced at the pain that shot through her head with every move she made.  
  
"Looking for this?" Joey began, but was interrupted by a ring of the telephone. "Hmmm," he thought aloud as he looked at her call display. "Grissom. Everyone's *favourite* boss." He pointed the gun directly at her with one hand, and reached for the phone with the other. "Say a word, and I'll kill you." 


	2. Chapter Two

I decided to write another section before going to bed tonight, so many thoughts to get written down, so little time.  
  


* * *

  
"Say a word, and I'll kill you," Joey threatened the young woman still on the floor. To her, it seemed as if he was imagining the act of murder as he said it. She tried to quickly debate her options. Should I call out for help? Or lunge at him and regain my gun? Maybe I should just stay quiet, and comply. She took the self-defence courses and the hostage- training seminar, but when it all came down to it, her mind was a blank. Money well spent.  
  
He picked up the phone, his eyes, along with Sara's gun, aimed directly at her. "Yes?" He paused a moment, listening. "No, Sara isn't feeling so well... Yes, sleep, which is what she's doing... I know, with the little sleep she gets on a regular day, the flu really seems to drains her... Of course, I'll tell her you called... I will, good-bye."  
  
In the last moment, she decided to go for it. "Grissom!" She called out, fear clearly in her voice. "Grissom!" She needed help, and he might be her last, best shot. She just hoped he'd hear her. He might have already hung up the phone by that point. Not only that, his hearing wasn't the greatest, so if the receiver wasn't right next to his ear, he'd more than likely hear nothing. Still, she prayed that he did.  
  
Luckily for the woman, Joey didn't keep his word. He never shot her, rather opting for the throwing of the entire phone at a nearby wall. She figured that was a good sign, but wasn't looking forward to what was bound to come. Her head still pounding, she managed to get to her feet, and grab a hold of a floor lamp. She swung it towards him, trying desperately to hit him, hoping he'd either drop the gun, or fall from the impact. Neither was to happen, because he saw it coming and easily grabbed the base of the makeshift weapon, throwing it out of reach.  
  
"No wonder every time you're with a man, things take a turn for the worse. Do you always attack the one's who care for you? The ones who try and help?"  
  
That last statement sent Sara over the edge. "Help? You honestly think between the two of us, I'm the one who needs help? You've forced me to stay here, against my will. You've hurt me, more than once. Hell, you even threatened to kill me with my own gun!" She cursed herself for saying that last line. She really didn't want to remind the man of his previous threat.  
  
"I wouldn't have had to do any of those things if it weren't for you getting so screwed up in the head so many years ago, that you won't let anyone near you. I'm not forcing you to stay," he yelled.  
  
"No, that gun really looks like an open invitation to leave!" Again, she cursed herself. She wanted the conversation going anywhere but where it was headed. Mind you she was rather relieved that a conversation, no matter how heated, was taking place. This would give Grissom time to get there. Grissom time to bring the team, the cops, right now she'd gladly welcome the feds, she really didn't mind.  
  
"It's your house!" He retorted.  
  
"So, I'm free to go any time? I can just walk out that door? Or better yet, you leave. This *is* my house, remember?"  
  
"It's not in your best interest, my leaving," he told her. "Why don't you understand this is all for you. You're sick. You need my help. Just let me help you. I love you Sara."  
  
"You're a regular Hallmark, you are."  
  
"Shut up. Just shut up," Joey ordered, waving the gun around. "We have to go. There's not much time. When they get here, it'll be too late. I'm the only one who really understands you. The one who gets what you are going through and what you really need."  
  
Sara backed away, wishing she were the one closest to the door. Her home was small, and the only exit, unfortunately was behind her newest disaster of a man. She saw that now. The man for who he truly was. There was no loving this man after what he'd done. What he'd put her through.  
  
She'd been in this situation before, granted the specifics had been different, and half of the cast had been replaced, but still, it was the same general formula. Sara plus creep equals no good. She just wished she'd figured out the equation sooner the first time around. It could have spared her what seemed like a lifetime of insecurities. A lifetime of fear. A lifetime of wishing she would just forget her past.  
  
But for now, she was stuck in the present. And hoping with all her heart, there would soon be a future. She knew when, and if she got through this, she'd be quickly maxing out on her overtime again. She dealt with things, by not dealing with them. It was easier that way. Not completely ever facing the past, but having it linger around, only to float back to the surface every time she faced a similar situation, be it in her own life, or during a case.  
  
She found herself being backed into a corner. Not soon after, her arms were forced behind her back, and tied tight with the man's tie. She was then being dragged across the room, towards the exit, the gun poking her side. She swore that her heart skipped a beat, during the short walk, but couldn't be sure. She was, however, sure about her heart rate speeding up, and her breathing becoming irregular.  
  
She looked about the exterior for any sign of Grissom or the others, but not a sole was around. No one to alert the police, no one to save her from this nightmare. In a way, she almost wished this all was a nightmare, that she'd soon awaken, alone, but safe in her bed. She knew this was wishful thinking and not at all practical, but still she had the smallest hope. She needed something to hang on to, and since she no longer had the luxury of hoping Grissom would arrive before it was too late, she looked elsewhere. Before she had time to react, Joey had popped the trunk of his car, forced her inside, and duct taped her mouth, leaving her no way to call out for help. He closed the trunk lid, and shortly after that, started the engine, and drove away. 


	3. Chapter Three

Okay, now I'm going to change perspective here. I'm not sure if that's allowed in writing, but I don't see why not. Besides, I want to get in Grissom's head today :)  
  


* * *

  
'It's not like her to be late,' Grissom thought, looking up from the paperwork that cluttered his desk. He really didn't enjoy that aspect of the job, and was glad to find an excuse, no matter how small, to avoid it. If only for a little while. He decided that he should call her. Sara rarely arrived late to work, in fact she was typically there before everyone. And the times she had been late, she'd called before hand to let him know.  
  
He dialled the number, waiting for a few rings before he heard the sound of a man's voice on the other end. Sara wasn't involved with anyone? Was she? Her work was her life? Maybe he's family, he thought to himself. "Hello, this is Gil Grissom from the Crime Lab, is Miss Sidle available?" He paused a moment, listening, before continuing. "Oh, is she alright? Is there anything she needs?... Well, she did look a little under rested on her last shift... Well, when she does wake up, tell her I called... Thank you. You have a good night."  
  
He was about to hang up the phone, but thought he heard a voice, like the mysterious man from before had said something else, so he brought the phone back to his ear and listened. That's when he heard it. Sara, his student, his colleague, his friend, had called out his name. "Sara! Sara!" Was all he managed to say before he heard a loud crash, and the line went dead.  
  
This couldn't be good. Sara was in trouble and needed his help. He immediately dialled out another number, this time Brass, and filled him in on the details. He was momentarily relieved when the Captain said he'd send someone over right away. He looked back down at his paperwork. This wasn't what he meant when he wished for a distraction from his duties. He'd do paperwork every waking moment, if it could only mean his team would be kept safe.  
  
His team, he had to tell the others. The authorities would most likely take the night shift off the case in the morning, due to their close involvement with the victim, but until then, they were all she had, and he planned to make the most of the hours ahead of him. They still had nearly eight hours of solid work time before the day shift returned and Grissom desperately hoped to find Sara long before that.  
  
He walked through the halls, searching for anyone on his team. They hadn't been assigned a case yet tonight, so they should all be around somewhere. He figured the break room. That was where they typically met to pass out assignments. His assumption was correct. Everyone on his team, including the lab technician was hanging around the small room, some sipping a beverage, while others flipped through the latest forensic magazines.  
  
Not wanting to waste time, nor work out the best way of telling the others, he opted for just coming out and saying what had happened. They were all shocked, worried, and unsure of themselves. Even Catherine, who didn't always see eye-to-eye with her co-worker didn't wish for anything like this to happen. Grissom told them all not to jump to conclusions, but he, along with the rest of the team was having trouble not too.  
  
They suspected that if the man were going to kill her right away, he would have done it already. Also, that now his secret was out, he'd both want to and have to move their location to a more secured one as quickly as possible. They also figured, Sara would fight him, try to resist as long as possible, hopefully long enough for Brass and his men to arrive, but they knew the police were at least a ten minute drive from her home, and that would provide ample time for the man to over power Sara and either kill her, or take her with him. They didn't want to even imagine the first option, so they kept the second one in the forefront of their minds.  
  
Perhaps that was the reason why the day shift would ask to take over the case. In fact, he knew that was the reason they would. It becomes hard to stay objective when you are dealing with one of your owns' fate. They would have to stay objective if they hoped to find Sara. He really hoped it wouldn't come down to a race with the clock, but with his experience regarding the subject, he knew it most likely would.  
  
The team headed out immediately, splitting into two groups. Warrick and Nick, taking one Tahoe, while Grissom and Catherine took the other. Each car was not only equipped with the latest forensic instruments, but also with some of the most able-bodied criminalists in the country. If someone had a good chance of recovering their friend, these were the people to count on.  
  
Long minutes later, they arrived at the scene. Brass and his men were already searching the place, trying not to disturb anything that may prove critical to the Crime Scene Investigation team. They pointed out the major points of disturbance to the newly arriving group, the bloodstain on the wood grain floor, along with the broken phone and the toppled lamp. Nothing else appeared out of the ordinary.  
  
The team knew the wealth of what they'd find would not be seen by the naked eye, and set down their field kits, ready to get to work. After pulling on a pair of gloves, Nick started photographing the scene, Catherine waved an ultraviolet light about the place, searching for any hidden fluid stains, Warrick dusted for fingerprints and Grissom took samples of the blood.  
  
Nothing definitive was found at the scene. They'd have to process the evidence back at the lab before they knew anything. A number of fingerprints were found, including a partial on the smashed phone, which looked promising to Warrick. He knew the suspect did use the phone when talking to Grissom, so he remained hopeful that at least this piece of evidence would lead them to a name.  
  
Unsure of whose blood Grissom was dealing with, he collected the samples without drawing any conclusions. He would let the evidence tell the story of what happened, and to do that he'd have to wait on Greg's analysis of the samples. The supervisor looked at the rest of his team, who were quickly finishing up and returning various items to their kits. The work moved remarkable fast when his entire team worked together. No, not his entire team. One was missing. One who needed their help, and he fully intended to do all he could to help her. 


	4. Chapter Four

I just wanted to thank those of you who have reviewed my work. It's really encouraging to know you have read and enjoyed what I've written. Tonight I'm in a Greg mood, so here goes...  
  


* * *

  
Greg was nearly stir-crazy by the time the team returned to CSI headquarters. He had really wanted to be in the field with the others. He felt as if he should be doing something to help, after all Sara was not only a well-known crush of his, she was a good friend. One of his best of late. The only thing that kept him sane was his understanding of what he was about to do, and how it could crack the case and bring his Sara back home to him, so to speak.  
  
While the team had been gone, he tried to focus on a DNA profile he was working for another case. He got the task done without a hitch, but his heart just wasn't in it. It was wherever that terrified brunette happened to be and he was more than sure that it wasn't about to return. Not until he saw his friend back safe and secure, preferably in his arms, but knowing he wouldn't push. What little he did know about her past, warned him to go slow. Very, very slow, for she had been hurt.  
  
Hurt. The thought hit him hard. She could be hurt right now. In more ways than one. A kidnapping could leave many emotional, and physical scars, both of which he prayed were not to be the case. And what about her past? Could this be related? He didn't have the answer to that question, and didn't know if he would until after. He along with the rest of the graveyard shift really knew nothing about her past, other than the bare essentials.  
  
Why was that? Why hadn't she connected with anyone? Or had she? Do the others know something and are just unwilling to share? They would wouldn't they? Share the crucial information? He guessed the answer to be a yes. What could have been so bad? He figured, judging by her adverse reaction to female victims, she had been with an abusive man, possibly raped. Had she sought out counselling? Did she need someone to listen? He was fully prepared to listen, if that's what she needed. He figured that was what she needed. He hoped that was all she needed.  
  
Greg had so many questions, but now, he also had an answer. Or at least something to go on. He held up a sheet, fresh out of the printer and quickly scanned the lines. "The blood, not Sara's. Male, actually. I'll run it through CODIS, if we're lucky, we'll have ourselves a suspect." He looked up from the sheet towards Grissom, "I can make a DNA profile, and hand deliver it to your office when I'm finished."  
  
"See that you do," Grissom told him. "From now until that sheet of paper of in my hand, this case holds top priority."  
  
"Understood."  
  
Greg did truly understand, and regardless whether Grissom gave the order or not, this case would have held the top priority. He owed that much to Sara. Perhaps, if he'd been just a bit more persistent, more mature, more understanding, or even a better listener, she'd have confided in him and he could have protected her. Kept her safe from all the harmful things of the world.  
  
He knew this probably wouldn't have been the case. If this horrible event was to happen, it would more than likely happen whether or not Greg held a greater role in her life. Bad things happened to good people no matter what the victim's family, friends, or even lovers tried to do to prevent it. He should know, especially being in his line of work. He saw things such as these everyday.  
  
Hoping to speed up the process, he decided to run the DNA up against only the Nevada samples. This would save time if the man had been convicted in state, and if by chance he weren't, he'd then run the rest of the states. Time was critical in a case like this.  
  
Unfortunately for him, the computer found no matches on the first run through, so he was forced to run a nationwide CODIS search. All he could do was wait. A program like this could take several minutes to complete. He only hoped he wouldn't end up with nothing to show for his efforts.  
  
While he waited, he began a DNA profile of the sample. When they did find a suspect, they'd be able to compare the DNA of the man, to the blood sample found in Sara's home. He wondered what her home looked like. Was it clear a struggle had occurred? Was the place a graphic novel of the night's events? He hadn't seen the pictures taken at the scene, and Grissom hadn't been forthcoming with the details. He'd speak with the others after he was finished working the profile and CODIS was through running the sample.  
  
Who knows, maybe Warrick got a match with the prints. From what little he did hear, word is he found some promising ones in key places. Granted most of them would turn out to be Sara's, he hoped just one of them would lead the team to her kidnapper.  
  
Just as Greg was finishing up with the profile, he heard the tell tale sign that CODIS was through running the sample. He looked over at the computer, hoping for a little good news, but none was forthcoming. The system had found no matches. He was no closer to a suspect than he had been when Grissom first left. He'd have to deliver the bad news, but at least he wouldn't be going empty handed. He'd be going with a full DNA profile of the man who took his Sara.  
  
He timidly knocked on Grissom's door. Well, actually, the frame of his supervisor's door, because it happened to be open. Being on the receiving end of the patented what-have-you-got-for-me look, Greg stepped inside the office and handed over the profile. "No luck with CODIS."  
  
Looking over the details of the paper, Grissom replied, "I'll check in with Warrick, see how he's coming with the prints. I'll let you know."  
  
Those last four words eased Greg's mind remarkably. He wasn't exactly sure why, but they did. Perhaps it was because it diminished his earlier thoughts of being the one left out of the loop. The one without all the necessary information. The outsider, though in the group, never *in* the group. 


	5. Chapter Five

Well, I just needed to write more, not sure if I'll finish this in time to post it tonight, but we'll see.  
  


* * *

  
Long into her journey, Sara's eyes had adjusted to her own personal hell. She was cramped, uncomfortable, but at least her headache had started to subside. By this point of the ride, she felt a great deal better than when she was first stuffed into the trunk of the car.  
  
She had already wriggled around the small space, looking for anything useful, either as a weapon, or as a tool to free herself from her binds. Finding neither, she realized a weapon in her current predicament would prove almost impossible to use. How does a person attack another while their hands are tied behind their back? She did not know.  
  
What she did know was she'd prepared herself the moment she felt the car pull to a stop. She'd rolled over onto her back to allow for a better position to kick out at her assailant in hopes that she'd incapacitate the man, just long enough to get free of the car, and run to safety. She'd only get the one chance, she feared, and was not about to let it go to waste.  
  
That chance would come sooner than expected when the car turned sharply, and slowed to a stop. A driveway perhaps? Or just some abandoned street outside of town? She didn't know if she really wanted to find out, but knew momentarily she would. She heard the pop of the truck, and braced herself for her big moment.  
  
Ready to kick out at the first sign of her captor being in close range, she waited. She listened, but heard nothing. Waited, listened, waited some more, then click, she heard the distinctive sound of the safety mechanism of a firearm disengage itself.  
  
'Crap,' was her only thought. The sound had come from behind her, so to speak. Actually, from the side of the car nearest her head. By far out of her legs' reach. Joey grabbed her upper arm, pulling her forcefully out of the trunk. On the way, she cut a gash into her opposite arm, having it catch on a sharp, protruding, and as yet unidentified object.  
  
She would have cried out in pain, if not for the duct tape that stifled any noise she happened to make. She would have cursed, and did in her mind, several times in fact as a response to the sting in her arm and the returning pounding in her head. She wasn't sure just how much more of this she could take.  
  
She tried to pull free, to no avail, and kicked the man several times. If this caused him any pain at all, he did not show it. Finally, she opted for the if-you-are-going-to-take-me-you'll-have-to-drag-me approach. This too failed, as the man just lifted her off the ground effortlessly and carried her to their destination.  
  
The destination, as it turned out was a small home, almost cottage looking, or it would have been if not for the expanse of desert that surrounded it. As she previously suspected, they were indeed out of town. And by the look of it, a great distance from the nearest neighbour.  
  
Being the investigator she was, she looked about for anything that might help her if she did happen to escape. She noted the lack of hydro and telephone wires to the house, never a good sign if one was hoping to alert the police to their whereabouts. She also noted just how dark it truly was that night. Without the typical glow of the Las Vegas lights she had grown so accustomed to, things seemed so bleak, so uninviting.  
  
That brief look would be all of the outside world she'd have the chance at seeing, for at this point, Joey had made it to the front door of the home. After pushing open the unsecured door, he threw Sara to the ground, and went to work on the locks. From what she could see, he had a chain, a deadbolt, and a keyed lock, which locked from the inside. The set-up resembling much to which a person suffering from paranoia might rig up.  
  
Fitting, she thought to herself. A kidnapper paranoid of the outside world. Or perhaps, she thought, the locks weren't for keeping people out. She came to realize the locks were more likely about keeping people in. What else had the man done to this place? Bars on the windows? Booby traps near the exits? She figured no to both thoughts, but with a man of his apparent mentality, she wouldn't put it past him.  
  
She pushed herself into a seated position, trying to get a better look at the cut on her arm, but couldn't really see it. Not only due to the lack of light, but also because of the awkward angle her arms had been forced into. From the corner of her eye, she saw the man come toward her, and then tower over her briefly. From her place on the floor, he truly looked like a large man, though she didn't believe he actually was.  
  
"Are you *comfortable* now?" He asked rather snidely, knowing he wasn't going to get an answer. Knowing he couldn't get an answer. He pulled her to her feet and led her to a room around the backside of the house. It was clearly a bedroom, but missing anything that could lead you to believe a person regularly used it. All it housed was a bed, a small dresser, a single window, and what appeared to be a closet.  
  
The realization that she was in a bedroom with a kidnapper didn't sit well with her. She began to sob uncontrollably as memories filled her mind of a time she'd sooner forget. Granted, there wasn't a bed, or even a home associated with her past experience. It had occurred in the cold, unforgiving halls of her sanctuary, the university. It was late, and she was alone, or so she had thought.  
  
She chastised herself for once again allowing those memories, those nightmares, to fill her thoughts. She wanted to be strong. She didn't want anyone, especially this man to see her defeated, broken inside. She wanted to portray the strong woman, the independent woman, the one whom no matter how things unfolded, was still in control of her own mind, if not the situation itself.  
  
She hated the feeling that came when she lost control. Even more she hated the feeling that came over her when she was forced onto the bed. For the first time in years, she wanted to die. And she wanted to take this bastard with her. 


	6. Chapter Six

This is rather creepy, but I thought I'd try and get into the kidnapper's head this time around. See what he sees, it's rather disturbing.  
  


* * *

  
Joey curled up on the bed closer to Sara, holding her tightly to him. His one arm found its way to the small of her back, while his other began to stroke her hair. He knew this position would prove very uncomfortable to the woman, primarily because her hands were still tied awkwardly behind her back. He not only knew she'd feel off-balance, but he knew the position made it especially difficult for her to move in any directly, save closer to the man himself.  
  
He felt power in what he did. So long as he was in control, things would work out fine. Like before this whole situation started. He knew because of Sara's past, she would find any degree of closeness both disturbing and unsettling. That's why he'd held her just a little too tight for a little too long. He knew that by telling her what she wanted to hear, when she wanted to hear it, her off-putting feelings would become so confused with her new-found feelings of content, that she'd start to question herself.  
  
He gained power from his mind games then, just as he gained power from her fear now. He truly wished for the woman to become so unsure of herself that she'd do anything he'd ask of her. He wanted her to beg for him. To believe it unthinkable an act to leave him. He wanted someone so insecure, so self-doubting that she'd start to believe he was the best she could find. That he was the only man who would love her. The only man who would take the damaged goods that she had become.  
  
He looked into her eyes, but could tell she was avoiding any visual contact between the two. That would come later. He'd make sure of it. For now though, the physical contact was enough. Enough to make him feel aroused. Certainly enough to make her feel, even if the sensations weren't of an agreeable variety.  
  
Almost unconsciously, he removed the duct tape. He longed for the sound of her voice, though he'd never let her in on that fact. He knew, at this point anyhow, she'd do anything to displease him, including keep silent if she thought speech was what he wanted. It was all part of the game. If she'd gave in and crumbled too soon, there'd have been no point to the last few weeks of preparations. He knew the woman was a fighter, that alone was half the fun.  
  
It was for her he had bought the little home outside of the city. He thought they'd need a private residence to really get to know one another. A place where no one would look. A place where he could delight in the sound of her screams, and not run the risk of being heard by neighbours. A place that at night became so dark, so sinister appearing, that it almost fit his terrible vision.  
  
He saw a tear running from the corner of her eye, so he leaned in and kissing her, felt the moisture and tasted the salt. He also noticed a small tremble escaping from her lower lip. Leaving a trail of soft kisses in his wake, he made it to the lip in question, and began nipping at it, and later delved in for a deeper kiss. At first, she didn't respond. Just held perfectly still. Then as if her body was betraying her, she slowly began to return the kiss.  
  
This continued for a moment, until she apparently realized what she was doing and pulled back her head sharply. He had wished the moment would've lasted longer, but in no way complained. He just watched her with a grin as she eyed him with a hard look of contempt. He wasn't sure if she was disgusted with herself, or with him. He figured a bit of both. He hoped for a bit of both. It would be more fun that way.  
  


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Sorry about the short chapter, but this seems like a good place to leave it right now. Thanks for all of you who have reviewed my work so far. It's a great motivator for writing additional chapters. I promise, the next chapter will be longer ;) 


	7. Chapter Seven

What do you say? Time we went back to the lab? Have a little Warrick visit? Sure, I don't own the gang, but hey, if you do, can I come over some time for tea? ;)

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Warrick ran through the building to his boss's office. Without even a moment to catch his breath, he gave the good news. "We got a match," he said handing over a piece of paper. "You are now looking at the proud owner of a right thumb print, but not just any thumb print, no! The very thumb print I lifted from our crime scene."

Grissom gave him a look that screamed, just get to the point already. He figured that he really should anyway. I mean, who did he think he was to hold up a case as important as this one. Finally complying, Warrick finished his tale. "Anyway, the print belongs to a man, Joseph, Joey, MacLean. There's just one problem."

"What is that?"

"This Mr. MacLean… he is of no fixed address. The last one on record from him was a place on 49th Street. It was condemned and demolished 10 years ago."

"Well, it gives us a start. Sara ever mention this Joseph to you?" Grissom asked, hoping to find out something that might help them along.

"Not a thing. Who'd have guessed she ever snagged herself a man?" Warrick said, almost proud.

Grissom broke the mood in his typical, matter-of-fact tone. "I suspect he may have found her, Warrick."

"You could be right, but hey, that girl does keep a lot of secrets," Warrick began, as he turned to find the others, and tell them the semi-good news. "I wonder why that is…" he mumbled to himself, in one last thought of her secretive ways.

First he found Greg, and explained what he'd found, and finished by asking the mandatory questions about who this MacLean guy could be. Who was he? Where was he? And what did he want with Sara? Did he even know Sara? It seemed like so many questions, but so little time.

Finally he left Greg, informing him that he'd be wherever he happened to find Nick and Catherine working together. When he found him a couple minutes later, he let them in on the news, and asked them as well if they'd ever heard Sara mention a Joseph, or a Joey. The answer was always the same. 'No.'

He wondered to himself why she had to always be so secretive about things. He wasn't even sure if anyone in the office really knew the real Sara. Sure, they'd seen glimpses of her, when she became overly passionate about a certain case, but usually that passion led to more questions than answers.

Warrick started to berate himself about blaming Sara. It wasn't her fault she was secretive. I mean, had he ever really asked her about anything? No, not in a serious tone anyway. And he was sure that she had her reasons to be that way. Granted, he figured, he wouldn't like those reasons, but they were reasons non-the-less.

And who's to say that she even kept this MacLean guy a secret. They had no indication that she knew the man before-hand. She'd never mentioned him to anyone. He could have just followed her home one day, or randomly picked her out of a crowd. Whatever the case, he didn't like it. None of it, and he just wanted some real evidence that could bring her back.

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Okay, this is a really short one, I do know. But hey, at least I'm actually updating. That is a big bonus on my part. Or your part, depending on how you look at it, right?

The glass is half-full, as opposed to it being half-empty? Either way, you're stuck with only half a glass, and no pitcher to fill it up.

Okay, no, so that wasn't my point… Basically, it's late, I'm tired, and I have to wake up in five hours for work ;)


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